


Rain Storms

by thewildheroine



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Coping, Depression, Feelings of uselessness, Gen, I wrote this when I was very sad, Mental Illness, The summary sucks, because it is slightly based off my week, but ya know how it be, depressed reader, depression system, feelings of hopelessness, so this is undoubtedly sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 15:52:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15952589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewildheroine/pseuds/thewildheroine
Summary: Y/N has been struggling the past week. Luckily she has Peter to help her.





	Rain Storms

**Author's Note:**

> Written to the song You There by Aquilo.

She preaches about motivation and dedication. Of pushing through the hardest obstacles and persevering no matter what, and they believe her. Every time they believe the words that curl past her lips and into classrooms like they’re being read out of some sacred text. That’s what she makes it sound like every time. She’s always so confident when she encourages people. Always so sure. Funny thing is though, she lacks in both of those things.

Before high school, Y/N was resolute in everything she did. She never needed the extra push to get through a day’s homework and when she did procrastinate she still managed to make her assignments the best that they possibly could be.  _Now_ , no consequences can push her to do something until the last possible second. Motivation doesn’t come until late at night and even then it is in short spurts of energy. A paragraph here, an equation there. By the time she finishes, the clock may read midnight, and on some occasions, two in the morning.

It’s not that she doesn’t want to be good in school anymore. Anyone who talks to her will no that. She wants to succeed, to keep straight A’s, to do her absolute best.

But the beast that has its hooked claws deep in Y/N’s soul refuses to let go. It sucks away any motivation she has in her. Her dedication dwindles more and more every day. She finds herself tired every moment of every day. The vitamins Y/N’s mother forces her to take every day do nothing. No matter what she’s always tired. Always staring at the blank paper and glowing white document in front of her and wishing for some of her passion back.

The beast won’t give it back though, so she fakes it, sometimes to the extreme. She fights as hard as she can, giving herself small tasks throughout the day and working up to the bigger ones. She tries making a list:

  1. _Pick up clothes._
  2. _Feed pets_
  3. _Clean room/desk area_
  4. _Writing homework (PEAL paragraph)_
  5. _Spanish workbook_
  6. _20 Physics problems_



She makes reminders on her phone:

**_English Assignment due tomorrow_ **

**_Vacuum room_ **

**_Study for calc test_ **

No matter what she’s always looking at that damned clock though, reading 12:15 or 1:30 or one night even 3:07. Y/N never did bother going to sleep that night.

It’s not that she doesn’t get in assignments when they’re due. She always has her A’s and B’s. The amount of effort to keep it that way is unbelievable though.

That’s not the worst part though. Y/N used to always be so sure of what she wanted to be. When people would ask she’d exclaim, “A zookeeper!”, “An actor!”, “A vet!”, and most recently, “A writer”. She’d always say that with such a wide smile. Most of her aspirations were replaced with another months after having them. Writing was her thing when she was in fourth grade though. She adored writing and when she began sharing it, other’s adored it as well. They complimented it, saying that she would have a future in fiction.

As she entered middle school the people around her began singing a different tune…

 _“You want to be paid a lot, don’t you.”_  Y/N said that more money would be nice.

 _“Are you just gonna become a homebody? Aren’t you afraid you’ll start gaining weight?”_  Y/N started playing more sports.

 _“Writing won’t get you anywhere in life.”_  She explored more careers.

 _“Get into a medical or technology field! Those won’t be going away anytime soon.”_  Y/N said she would look into becoming a surgeon.

But just like before, all these aspirations faded, and once she finally accepted that writing was and would always be her heart’s home, that had faded too.

She tries pushing it, giving herself deadlines. Sometimes that will work. She’ll write for hours at a time, inspiration and motivation and dedication flowing through every vein in her body. When her pieces get complimented, she’ll write five thousand words in a day.

Other days, she’ll stare at a blank screen, praying and begging for something to come to her. She’ll grow dispassionate after some time though. Today is one of those days.

Y/N’s eyes burn, her mind tired. She doesn’t know why. She remembers getting nine hours last night. Then she also recalls only getting twenty hours total the past five days. Her mom tries to pick up her spirits as always. She takes Y/N out. Takes her shopping, takes her to go see her brother who buys her a movie that she was raving about days ago. Her heart doesn’t leap out of excitement the entire time though. It remains stagnant in her chest, pulsing at its usual slow, steady pace. Y/N doesn’t expect more.

It’s when her mom is driving the both of them home does her heart do something finally.

The conversation started out on the topic of the upcoming NMSQT. Y/N’s mom said that she should do it to get scholarships. Y/N said that she shouldn’t. She says she should take the ASVAB because she doesn’t know what she’s going to do with her life. She’s prepared to laugh afterward to distract her mom from the truth in her words. The chuckle doesn’t come though.

Y/N doesn’t remember much between this. All she can truly recall is tilting her head away from her mother as tears began streaming down her face because it’s true. She doesn’t know what she wants to do. Years ago she used to be so positive. A writer. She wanted to be a writer. What now though? What would the beast allow her to dream for? Of course Y/N’s seen people push through this illness. They do great things too. For some reason, she can’t see herself where they are anymore. All she can see from where she is standing is a blank slate. An infinite expanse of white deserts. Hot and angry and murderous. With the ASVAB she’d at least know where she  _should_  go. A set point.

Like always, Y/N’s mom sees her tears though and the first thing she asks is if she’s been taking her vitamins. Like always, Y/N says, “I’ve been trying”. The tears come faster as her mom tells her that it’s okay that she doesn’t know where she’s going. She’ll figure it out one day and on that day all the pieces will come together. Y/N knows what she wants to be though. A writer. She wants to write. She needs to write. Writing is who she is. She only cries though, the hiccups too frequent for any words to be coherent.

Now, she sits her room, the clock reading nine as she stares at the physics homework she has yet to start. The two windows are the color of pitch and outside she can hear what seems like a thousand crickets chirping in perfect unison. Thunder growls all of the sudden and her mind moves quietly to her friend, who is undoubtedly swinging through Queens right now with his webs, something she helped him upgrade on one of the afternoons where her inspiration was in full swing.

She begins to wonder if she is capable of magic when Peter himself taps on her window. Y/N can make out the dark red outline of his Spider suit. If she tries hard enough, she can also see his bright hazel eyes. The ones that always gleam. He looks tired but happy, like usual.

Peter, however, sees the opposite. He sees that distinct anguish he’s come to know far too well in one of his best friends. The makeup on her face is beginning to slip away, revealing the purpling bags under her y/e/c eyes. Or maybe that’s just mascara. Peter can never tell. Y/N always starts wiping that away when she gets home after school. She smiles though and it is as bright as it can ever get when she seems as upset as she is now.

The young hero watches as the girl strides over to her window, unlatching the locks and peeling the screen up so he can get through.

“Más gracias señorita,” he remarks as he climbs into her room, his gloved hand sticking to the ceiling. She silently remarks to herself how his accent is just slightly off. Somehow, it makes Y/N’s grin grows just a bit wider, something that makes Peter’s heart glow. Suddenly the weight of the marigold in his hand becomes extremely noticeable. When he drops, Peter quickly hides it in one of his pockets, praying that the pedals won’t get ruined.

For weeks he’s been trying to figure out how to ask Y/N to homecoming. Ned and Michelle were forced into helping even though Peter barely allowed their opinions to matter. He knew not to do it during school. Y/N doesn’t like people watching her. Peter’s noticed that throughout the years. When all eyes are on the girl he’s been growing a crush on for the past year she seems to shrink under the weight of them, her eyes searching for his so that she can use them as an anchor.

He thought of a poster with one of his famous jokes but decided that he wanted it original. Y/N deserves original. Peter tried and tried to figure something out. To come up with the perfect way to ask her. With every idea, he came up with he also came up with a problem though. Finally, Peter decided on a marigold, one of the sunset orange marigolds you’ve claimed to love on multiple occasions with a little note connected to the stem by a thin brown string.

“No hay problemo, Peter,” she chuckles back, the first semi-genuine laugh she’s had all day. It makes Peter feel victorious as she turns away from him and walks to her desk, waving her hand lazily the whole time. Then he sees the sheets of homework she hasn’t even started yet. His eyes then find Y/N’s planner, but there are only two things written for Monday, meaning that her motivation to even write the information in her planner went away by third period.

“So,” he drones as he plops into Y/N’s bed, “what’s up.” She shakes your head while self-consciously covering her work… or lack thereof.  

“Okay,” she replies with a shrug. “I got a new movie.”

“Cool. That’s cool.” Peter sits up and scoots towards Y/N and her desk. Slyly, he uncovers the unfinished homework.

Y/N’s not embarrassed. This happens every time. Peter always knows no matter how hard she tries to hide it. She should’ve known this time wouldn’t be any different.

“I’m having a hard time getting started,” she whispers lowly, and Peter can hear in her voice just how much she despises the work. Or maybe it’s not the work.

“That’s okay,” he informs quickly, afraid that this plan will go awry before it even begins. “You know, I’ve heard I’m super helpful when it comes to stuff like this and I-I know that it’s not chemistry but I can totally help you with physics it’s not a problem. Really-really.”

She giggles. “Really-really?” Peter rolls his eyes and nods in return, opting to use just that as an answer. “Okay then.” He takes that as his queue to sit next to the girl whose eyes still look hollow in a lonely way. Peter can’t help but stare into them before he starts helping Y/N with the equations.

It doesn’t surprise Peter once she begins easily moving through each problem in less than five minutes each. Usually, it only takes a bit of a push to get her working. A compliment or a tip. Then Y/N speeds through all of her work, not once pausing. She knows that usually, it’s not like that. She’ll work in intervals most of the time. With Peter there though, she finds all the motivation she needs and shoots through her homework. By the time Y/N’s finished, it’s only ten and Peter and her still have time to hang out.

“Thank you,” Y/N tells Peter as she shoves her notebook into her bag. “When do you have to go?” Peter grimaces slightly and messes with one of the books laying on Y/N’s desk. It’s one of the ones she was able to finish in a weekend. A special achievement in her opinion.

“Well actually,” Peter laughs and turns the novel over, reading the back cover silently, “May might not know I’m even gone.”

“Peter,” she reprimands. Without words, Peter adores the way she tilts her head to the side and jokingly glares up at him. But he still sees the way her shoulders tense without reason, the real bags under her eyes that have appeared after Y/N wiped away the rest of her concealer. She has a bit of a cowlick from running her fingers through the y/h/c strands.

“Hey,” Peter lifts up his hands defensively, “duty calls, Y/N. You know that.” The girl sighs and sits further back in her chair. “And- and,” he exclaims, “we can watch that movie together now.”

The hollow look in Y/N’s eyes recedes just a little bit.

## ____________

Two hours later, the end credits begin rolling down the screen. Peter yawns and turns towards his best friend, expecting her to have passed out already seeing that she seemed so tired. Her eyes are still open though.

She’s lost in thought, the memory of her mother speaking to her in the car running rampant in her mind. Y/N doesn’t even notice that the movie has ended and the credits are rolling. It takes Peter grabbing onto her shoulder to knock her away from her thoughts. The pinprick of tears remains as she turns to the hero, the chestnut hair on his head turning curly.

“Y/N?” he murmurs, his eyes blatantly scanning the look on her face. “You okay?” Y/N smiles as much as she can.

“Yeah sorry,” she shakes her head and blinks hard, hoping that that will dispense the tears.”I just got lost in thought. I’m okay though.” Y/N abruptly stands from her seat and presses her hand into the space bar, pausing the movie. Peter’s hand shoots forward though and he wraps his calloused fingers over hers.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

And with that, she shatters a bit. Y/N wishes her body doesn’t shudder the way it does right then. She wishes that she can’t feel grief literally coursing throughout her entire body like she does right then. Her head drops and she squeezes Peter’s hand. Tears begin falling faster than they can both realize.

“God.” A course, choked laugh runs past her lips as she says that single word. “I’m so sorry Pete, I just- I’m just stressed that’s it.” Peter stands slowly, feeling that if he moves too quick she’ll wrap her emotion up again and store them far inside of herself.

“Hey, hey,” it whispers softly, “it’s okay Y/N. You can tell me.” She shakes her head. This is the first time he’s seen her cry.

“Nonono.” Y/N shakes her head. “It’s nothing, really Peter. Really-really. I’ll be okay tomorrow, I’m just wound up right now.” Peter grabs both of her shoulders, pausing her shuddering if only for a second.

“It’s  _not_  nothing.”

“But it is,” she remarks. “I’m just worried about school. There’s no need for you to worry too, I’m just being-” Y/N lifts her hands to her face and covers her eyes. “God,” she repeats, “I’m being so fucking stupid.”

“No, you’re not, Y/N.” Peter pulls her into his arms before she has the chance to step away from him. “Just-just tell me what’s going on so I can help.” Y/N sniffles and shakes her head. Her tangled hair swings from side to side.

“You can’t help me with this, Peter,” she mumbles and falls onto her bed. Although Y/N’s tears have gone away, the hollow look in her eyes returns fully. “I-I don’t know where I’m going. I don’t know what I want to be, and don’t you give me any of that bs on it’ll all click one day because you already have it all figured out Peter.” Peter furrows his brows and steps towards her.

“No I don’t Y/N,” he assures. “I’m still trying to figure myself out too.”

“No-no you’re not,” she hisses. “You’re a hero Peter. A hero and a prodigy who has Stark and Oscorp industries on their hands and knees. Me? I-I thought writing was where I was going but I can barely even write a full paragraph anymore without feeling numb!” Peter studies the way she clenches her jaw out of frustration. Her eyes are rimmed with hot tears that she refuses to let go. All of the sudden, Peter is imagining all the strain on her soul. All the strings tugging her in every direction.

Outside, the storm arrives and the rain starts falling.

“C’mon.” Peter extends a hand towards her. Y/N narrows her eyes and looks up at the young superhero who is still clad in his red and blue suit.

“What?”

“We’re gonna do something.” Hesitantly, Y/N takes his hand and stands. Before she knows what’s happening, Peter’s dragging her out of her room and into the living room. He knows her house like the back of his hand by now and ti only takes him a minute to guide her to her back door. Outside rain pummels the ground. Y/N doesn’t say anything as he slides open the door and pulls her towards the rain.

“What are we doing?” she wonders curiously, her voice still monotone. Peter thinks that maybe she takes the emotions out so no one can hear it. Not even her.

“That’s up to you.”

Y/N relishes the way the water feels against her skin. The cold is one of the worst and best changes she’s experienced this entire week. One arm wraps around her waist to conserve her warmth as she moves further into the storm. Peter keeps and tight hold on her as he has her step onto the grass.

As she stares up the sky, Y/N’s tears begin falling from her eyes again, only this time freely. She finally realizes why Peter had he come outside. Her tears mix with the rain that falls onto her face and that allows them to go unseen by anyone, even Peter who keeps his eyes locked on the weeping girl. She sobs with no restraint. Y/N feels like she’s imploding, but as everything is being destroyed she can feel the cold rain cleansing her. It rinses away as much pain as possible and the hollowness disappears, though it is not replaced by happiness, but sadness. Y/N finds herself thankful for that though. Thankful for the fact she’s finally feeling something more than frustration and weariness.

Peter watches from where he stands. While he can’t make out her tears he can still see the way her shoulders shake wildly and the deep, lamenting frown plastered to her blotchy red face. He remembers all the people who write about falling in love with this vulnerability. Peter doesn’t love this though. In fact, he hates it. He hates that all he can do is watch as the girl who he is falling for breaks apart in her own arms. He hates the vulnerability filling her up now and he hates the people who call it bravery.

This isn’t Y/N being brave. This is her being alive. This is all of the pain and grief and joy finally being let out. Finally breaking past the beast who tries so hard to numb her. This is Y/N in her messiest, truest form. All of her emotions breaking out in one hurricane of disarray. He loves Y/N in everything she is and will always be, but he hates the illness that takes control of her.

His mind goes back to the marigold in his pocket. His proposal. Peter knows he can’t do it now. Not when she’s finally getting a chance to let all of the dangerous emotions free in waves of tears. She deserves to have this moment to think only of herself.

He’ll have plenty of chances to let Y/N know how much he loves her.

She only gets so many rain storms to let go and cry.


End file.
